In Dreams and Death
by Mystia
Summary: Dreams are fine. Nightmares are difficult. But the night terrors, those are the worst. -This is ridiculously short but I'm actually happy with how it turned out-


It's dark. Quiet. A deafening silence, an uncomfortable darkness. Shapes can be made out, various items are vaguely identifiable, but it's still dark. You know where you are, your room, where you should be. But something isn't right. It shouldn't be so dark in here, it shouldn't be so quiet. And then another realisation hits you: you can't move. Your body is numb, almost like it's not even there. Your eyes can scan over the room and you can breathe, that's all you can do. Not that there's much to look at, mainly the ceiling. It's then that you notice your position; flat on your back, on your bed, arms up over your head. Had you been sleeping? Had you just woken up? Your sense of time is practically nonexistent. It must be late at night though, that's the only reason it would be so dark. But still, this heavy darkness is unsettling. Not as unsettling as your inability to move, that part actually has you scared. _Why can't I move? _It's all you can think about. Nothing is holding you down, no restraints, nothing to keep you so immobilised. And then there's that numbness that makes it feel like your body isn't even there. Had you been drugged? Was that what was going on? Really, drugged in your own home? But you hadn't been anywhere that night. Or had you? You couldn't remember. The previous day was such a blur; it gave you a headache just trying to remember. Out of the corner of your eye you see slight movement. Not being able to move restricts your sight, only being able to see so much just by moving your eyes. To the right, a small corner in the room, it seems darker than the rest of your room. The darkness seems to be moving, breathing. It stops, as if it knows you're watching. It lowers, getting closer and closer to the floor, out of your limited range of sight. You can't help but take in a ragged breathe as fear washes over you. You know what this is now; why you can't move, why your memory is so blurred, why it seems so dark and so quiet. You know exactly what's going on, and it's only going to get worse.

In a way, it's like those "recurring dreams" you can't tell anyone about. They've never been dreams, they're nightmares. But sometimes, they're more than that. Sometimes, they're _real_. Well, as real as a nightmare can get. You've read that they're called "night terrors" and their name is quite accurate. They come either when you start to fall asleep, or when you're coming out of it. All you can do is wait for it to end. But which will end first, the "dream" or you? Sometimes you wondered why you didn't end up having a heart attack during these things. Just the thought of it had your heart racing, pounding behind your ribs like it wanted out, like your heart wanted to escape just as badly as you did. But there was no escape, you couldn't run, couldn't close your eyes. All you can do is just wait, wait in fear of the horrible things that were about to happen. Each time, they got worse, much more horrific. The more recent ones had been so disturbing you had actually feared sleep, forcing yourself to stay awake for days until your body couldn't take it anymore. Thankfully, you didn't dream that night. But tonight, you weren't so lucky.

The ceiling starts to fade, going from white to grey like a thick smoke is rolling into the room. But it gets darker and darker, soon turning pitch black. The darkness starts to move, rolling in small waves of movement, rippling as if something were behind it. You couldn't do anything but watch as it swelled, growing thinker and dropping closer to you. Other parts of it extended out, long thin strips of a dark mass, shaping itself into something. Arms, hands with thin, clawed fingers, reaching out to you, for you. The closer they get, the more you want to run, the more you want to scream. But you can't and that makes it all the more terrifying. You can almost feel the sharp tips of those claws as the touch your skin. Bare skin; you had been sleeping naked. This wasn't much of a surprise, sleeping that way had been more comfortable for you. But now, now it just made you feel more vulnerable. The darkness could see everything, all of you; nothing was hidden from its invisible eyes. The hands began clawing at your skin, pulling, scratching, trying to pull your flesh away. You know what it wants; you know what this is all about. You dreams, your nightmares, these _things_ were all caused by one simple thing. By one perfect person. The dreams were fine, blissful; the dreams would make you wake up smiling. The nightmares weren't too bad, generally they were just violent. The dreams were the good side, the nightmares were the bad. But this, these night terrors, they were the reality. They were your reality. You had no escape, not from the good, not from the bad. And most of all, you had no escape from the darkness. Not just the darkness that's clawing at your skin, trying to pry its way into you, but the darkness that lingered in your heart. That's where this all came from. One stupid little feeling that you just couldn't fight off.

The idea of love was always so foreign to you. What was the point? Why waste time loving someone? Sure, you had your boyfriend, but he was just a comfort. He was just there to keep you level. That's all. Yes, you know it's wrong to use him, to let him think you love him, but that's just how you are. You're just a cold, stonehearted, manipulative bitch. You would never deny that, it was a fact and everyone knew it. So why? Why did you suddenly feel love? And for _her_ of all people. As her name comes to your mind, the darkness around you erupts into a frenzy, the hands no longer clawing at you gently, now they lash at you, you can almost feel them tearing open your skin. _They're not real. They're not real. It's just a "dream." This isn't really happening. _Despite thinking this, you can still feel it, you can feel the pain that shouldn't be there. It's nearly everywhere, the feeling of being covered in deep gashes. It hurts and it makes you want to cry out in pain, but still, you can't move. It only lasts for a few seconds, the darkness finally pulling back in on itself, away from you. All of it slips back up to the ceiling, evening out on the flat surface. The false pain seems to fade away as well, once again leaving you numb. You watch the darkness, not sure what to expect next. Never had it been so violent to you, usually it just lingered over your body and watched you. Okay, so it wasn't that simplistic. It would burrow itself into your heart, into your soul and overtake your mind. It would take all sight from you and make you see whatever it wanted you to see. You never liked what it showed you, you absolutely hated what it made you see. Some of the things, you could deal with; grotesque images, the things horror films are made of. But other things would make you want to fold in on yourself. The darkness liked to show you who you really are, _what_ you really are. In the farthest corners of your mind, in the deepest parts of you heart you had hidden away your true self. You had forced that girl away, pushed her to the edge of the cliff that your life seemed to balance on. She was too soft, she was too easy to break, she was everything you hated and everything you wanted to be. As you had pushed that part of yourself away, you started to see it in others. It would make you hate them, that small light that seemed to come from them. You preferred to hide out in the dark, the light hurt too much. But there was one light you just couldn't stay away from, a light that you wanted to immerse yourself in, to bask in that warm glow that shined brighter than the sun. That light took the form of a person, a girl, same age as you. She was basically dropped into your life, a lit match tossed carelessly into a dark cavern that hadn't seen true light in years. That light wanted to see more, to explore the depths of the darkness, and that scared you. So you kept pushing her away, but she just pushed right back. Her determination is what got to you first; she fought so hard, not just to get to you but for everything. She had such a strong will and so much confidence, you respected that about her. Soon, that secret respect turned into something else, something you couldn't name, something new to you. That was when the dreams started. They were simple dreams, nothing significant about them, but then they slowly turned into nightmares. In those nightmares, the light would be pulled away from you or you would be forced further into the dark. And it would only get worse.

The darkness above you begins to move again, rolling against the ceiling like before, preparing itself to attack again. Two fairly large slits appear in the darkness, opening to show eyes. Bloodshot eyes with pure white irises, staring down at you, seeing _through you_. This was a first; never had the darkness literally looked back at you. Its eyes held yours like a spell, your breathing slowing, evening out as your heart rate steadily returned to normal. This wasn't right, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. You could feel it though, those eyes weren't merely looking at you, they were judging you. More of the darkness shifted, pulling your attention away from those haunting eyes. Once again, arms extended out of the darkness, but this time there were only two of them, much smaller than the others. These looked almost like human hands aside from the sharp claws that seemed to shine despite the lack of light. Light, that was what you needed. You needed the light, and not just any light, you needed _her_ light. More than that, you needed _her_. All of her. You needed to fall into her light and completely abandon the darkness that you've found comfort in for so long. That was why all of this was happening. The darkness around you, in you, depended on you just as much as you had depended on it. Were you to go into the light, that darkness would die. That darkness would fade, and that was the last thing it wanted. Its arms extended out towards you quickly, the sharp claws wrapping tightly around your throat. You can't breathe. You can't move. You can't scream. You can't escape. The rest of the darkness spreads out, dripping down from the ceiling to coat over the walls. The room around you growing darker and darker, vision becoming blurry due to the lack of oxygen. The hands press harder and harder into your throat, trying to force the life out of you, trying to force out that last shred of dim light that was still in your heart. With the last of your will, you reach for that light, searching inside yourself, inside your heart. You will escape, you have to. You'd at least die trying.

As if in a flash, the darkness retreats away, light returning to your room. Your body jerks itself, like it's waking up. You're shaking, crying, breathing quickly, roughly. You're sick of this, sick of hiding in the dark. Sick of being tormented by your own feelings, of having to hide them. Reaching over to your night stand, you grab your phone and quickly navigate to the number you need, quickly noticing that it's past three in the morning. Pressing "call" you bring the small phone to you ear, praying that you'll get an answer. After the first few rings, there's a soft click followed by a groggy sounding "hello?"

"Tori, we need to talk. There's something I need to tell you."

**Author's Note:** _This is like one giant metaphor. I don't really have much to say about this one really. I only spent like, two days on it, so if it seems awful to you, blame that. I'm actually proud of this one (which is a first since I hate all of my other work.)_

_Anyway, review, tell me what you think. You don't have to, but it would be much appreciated. _


End file.
